


Warm and Real and Bright

by Haro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Disney, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9487850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haro/pseuds/Haro
Summary: My name is Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m going to tell you a story. Luckily it’s not a story about me, because I’m not exactly the most interesting guy in the world, but if you were hoping for that for some reason, don’t worry, I’m still in it. Er, later on at least.This is the story of a man named Victor, and he’s… a very special man actually, more special than anyone I’ve ever met. Anyway, his story starts with the moonlight.[AU based loosely on Disney's Tangled]





	1. Flower, gleam and glow

**Author's Note:**

> I've been plotting out this Tangled AU for over a month. It essentially started with the idea that Victor would make an adorable Rapunzel and went from there. In the meantime, a few artists have (unrelated) started drawing this AU on tumblr. There are some beautiful pieces for it so look for them! I do want to say that as far as my aesthetic for it, the one that probably fits the best is wickederosyuri's take on it. You can see her art here: https://wickederosyuri.tumblr.com/tagged/yoi-tangled-au ! 
> 
> Anyway, YOI gives me life. This fandom has been my sun and stars for the last few months, and I'm so, so excited to finally contribute writing to it, but I am also super duper nervous! I hope you all enjoy. Reviews are much appreciated! Thank you to Abarero for the beta.

My name is Yuuri Katsuki, and I’m going to tell you a story. Luckily it’s not a story about me, because I’m not exactly the most interesting guy in the world, but if you were hoping for that for some reason, don’t worry, I’m still in it. Er, later on at least.

This is the story of a man named Victor, and he’s… a very special man actually, more special than anyone I’ve ever met. Anyway, his story starts with the moonlight.

Or rather than moonlight, a very specific, very rare moment where a moonbeam intersected with the dust from a falling star and a magic flower bloomed in its wake. It was a beautiful white flower; it’s petals sparkling with dew and glittering with an aura of enchantment and life, and according to legend, it could heal all woes.

That was what the stories said, at least…

But for centuries, no one could locate the flower. Until one day, not too far away, an otherwise thriving kingdom sent out a search party in desperate need of it. You see the king and queen of this small but prosperous kingdom had been trying for years to have a baby, and finally, after so long, they were with child. However, far into her pregnancy the queen grew very ill, and it seemed inevitable that both she and her child would perish if something were not done. Healers from all over the continent came, but to no avail. The queen continued to grow worse.

The legends of the magic flower, despite how far-fetched they were, were the kingdom’s last hope.

Sorry if I’m getting a little boring here, I’m not the best at storytelling. I’ll hurry along. Anyway it was a long and tiresome search, but they found the flower eventually, and they made it back to the kingdom just in time. The kingdom’s doctors made a tonic from the flower and the queen drank it, and… just a few weeks later, a little miracle was born.

He had hair that was silver white to the point of near glowing, just like a moonbeam intersecting with stardust, and eyes that were the color of a summer sea, and he was alive and vibrant and proof of the love the kingdom had for their king and queen and the love the king and queen had for each other, and his name was… Victor.

To honor his birth, the king and queen launched a single floating lantern in the sky at night, upward toward the moon, as if giving thanks. It was everything they could have ever wanted. A happy ending, right?

Just a month later, he vanished.

They looked twice as hard for Victor as they had for the flower, but they came up with nothing. There was no sign of him anywhere, and after a time, they began to lose hope. But they never stopped trying. Every single year on his birthday, the people of the kingdom would send lanterns up into the night sky, multitudes of them, thousands upon thousands, in hopes that he would see them and know… know that they were for him and come home.

But even after twenty-one years, he still had not returned.

 

* * *

 

“Mmmm… Makkachin, it’s too early, don’t wake me up yet,” Victor said, and he cracked open one of his ocean blue eyes, just in time for it to be met with the face of his dog, leaping onto his bed and directly onto him, licking his face excitedly as if he’d kept him waiting for hours. He hadn’t. Victor was an early riser, and he always had been. “I know, I know. You’re hungry.” He gave Makkachin a scratch behind the ears, pressed a kiss to his nose, and pushed him off his body so he could get out of bed. “All right, fine.”

To get out of bed, Victor didn’t just have to push off his covers and step onto the floor, he also had to gather up his rather substantially long hair.

And this is where Victor’s life took a turn for the strange, stranger than one could possibly imagine, although to Victor, it was all he’d ever known so he didn’t think too much of it. Victor had been sheltered from the outside world since he was young, his only memories of it scant and hazy and… awful, but that’s getting ahead in the story.

Victor was at least aware enough to know that his hair was exceptional, for even in all the stories he read, and he read so many, his home was filled to the brim with books, and he had endless free time to partake in them, no one had hair like his. No one had seventy feet of silver, almost white hair. No one had hair that glowed like the brightest of full moons when he sang to it.

He smiled and stepped, barefoot onto the wooden floor of his home, his tower.

It was tall and stately and beautiful, and he’d lived here most of his life. And he thought, he’d probably live here forever, because it’s not as if he was ever going to stop having magic hair so it’s not as if the world was ever going to stop being dangerous to him, right?

It was safe. He had every book in the world if he so asked for it. He had Makkachin. He was happy…

In his early years, he had lived with Lilia, the woman who had found him as a toddler, in her home. But… one day he’d been out in the backyard, and he’d been attacked. He had the vaguest of memories of it, and sometimes in the middle of the night he woke up in a cold sweat, hair plastered to his forehead and eyes wide in terror, heartbeat fast and erratic as if he had been running for his life. The horror in those moments felt as real as it must have been when he was a child, when his short legs wouldn’t have been able to help him at all and only his screams would have been able to do anything to assist him in his time of peril; to alert Lilia of the danger occurring.

She’d managed to save him, but she’d almost died in the process, her injuries grievous. The men who wanted Victor were out for blood and would do anything to capture him. It was then and only then that Victor figured out how to use his powers.

“ _Flower, gleam and glow_ ,” he’d sung, and he didn’t know where the words came from, he’d just felt them, bubbling up within him, like he’d always known them, like they were a part of him that had been with him since birth, a piece of his soul that he’d finally unlocked, “ _let your power shine_.” He’d wrapped as much of his long, long hair, for it was already so long at that point, down to his feet, around Lilia. “ _Make the clock reverse_.” It had begun to glow, white like a moonbeam brushed with stardust, and he’d gasped, but he’d gulped and continued, his high-pitched, child’s voice wavering, “ _bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design_.” He grew more confident, feeling the power surge out of him. “ _Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine_.” A deep breath. “ _What once was mine_.”

He didn’t remember much of the actual attack, only flashes of it, and the emotions, the terror associated with it, but he remembered that part clearly. He remembered Lilia’s wounds closing in front of him. And then he remembered the tower. After that, it was only the tower. From when he must have been about six years old, it was the only home he knew. Lilia was never sure his age, but that was what she guessed. When she’d found him in the wood, abandoned and injured as a baby, she’d guessed he could not have been more than a year and a half old. There was a small bracelet around his wrist, the shape of a moonflower, and on the back was inscribed ‘Victor, 25-12.’ A birthday and a name, both of which he held close to his heart now. It was all he had of his true identity.

She considered her home too dangerous. They were after him for his power, she knew it. The tower was intended to be temporary, but they came again a year later, and she decided then, Victor would not ever be safe in her home. She heard them talking, and so did he. Sometimes in the night, although it was likely just a dream, he even heard voices outside the tower, on the ground, whispers that made his heart freeze and his only comfort was the fact that Makkachin wasn’t reacting. Makkachin was his guard dog, and Lilia had given him to Victor not only as a companion, but to protect him from anyone who might harm him.

The tower was beautiful and it was safe. Lilia visited him every day, and although she was not particularly warm, she gave him what he asked for and taught him so many things; how to read, how to cook, how to paint, how to sew, how to dance (which he loved), and thankfully, how to care for his hair.

But even with Lilia and Makkachin, he was growing lonely. He spent more and more time staring outside the tower, wondering what exactly did lay within the deep forest; green and inviting despite also being frightening. He may have had dark dreams about it, but some nights, he also had wonderful ones; dreams of seeing the animals and plants he read about up close, or the wonderful people in the kingdom he knew was beyond it, or dancing not just by himself, but with someone else.

Or best of all, seeing the lights. 25-12, the back of his bracelet had said, and every year on 25-12, he was greeted with the most breathtaking of sights. He wasn’t sure what they were. They were too far away. They looked like thousands of stars rising into the sky as if they were in a race to see who could kiss the moon first, and they happened at the same time on his birthday (for he assumed it was his birthday) every single year. It was silly, and maybe he was just being a romantic, but… he liked to think that maybe, they were meant for him, and that someday… he could go out and see them, and perhaps even dance with someone too?

He was an adult now; far into adulthood in fact. He was much stronger than Lilia too, wasn’t he? He reached over and stroked Makkachin as he leaned out the tower window pushing a piece of his hair behind his ear. “Makkachin… I’m going to ask Lilia if I can go see the lights for my birthday. Do you think she’ll say yes?”

Makkachin barked. Victor let out a short laugh. “Wow. You’re right. I still haven’t fed you yet. Let me get right on that. Daydreaming doesn’t fill your empty stomach, does it?” He let out a brief grimace when Makkachin tripped over his hair again, but laughed. “Careful there, don’t get tangled up in it.” He threw it over the rafters and shook his head. “That should do it. “Let’s get you taken care of.”

 

* * *

 

“Sakata! You’re wasting time, hurry up so we can finish this job,” called a woman’s voice, and the man who’d been addressed turned around, shooting her a sheepish smile and scratching the back of his head.

“Sorry. It’s just… the view up here is so beautiful.” He adjusted his glasses and rested his chin on his hand, using the other one to finger the leather strap of his satchel. A piece of his short black hair fell down into his eyes and he quickly slicked it back with a low grumble.

“I guess that’s true,” she came up next to him, standing on the ledge of the roof. It was one of the highest points of the kingdom, a red shingled roof, pristine and well taken care of; just a hop skip and leap from the palace. “Still who knew that the famous Sakata no Kintoki, greatest thief in the region, was prone to getting distracted by daydreaming.”

“Sara!” huffed a third person on the roof, and an auburn haired man came up next to the pair and crossed his arms over his chest, indignation clear on his face. “If we don’t hurry up, we’re going to run out of daylight.”

“And who knew Michele of the famous Crispino Twins, didn’t know that when it’s not even nine a.m. yet there’s plenty of daylight left in the day,” said Sakata no Kintoki retorted. Sara burst out laughing, her head bobbing and her long, dark brown hair waving in the breeze. Michele ground his foot into the shingles of the roof and gritted his teeth. “Anyway, I just… this is hopefully going to be my last job so, I’m kind of taking it in, you know?”

“Your last job?”

He gave her a small smile. “I hope so. I didn’t get into thieving because I like it.”

Sara and Michele both shot him surprised looks, and Sara covered her mouth, her eyes widening. “You’re the most famous, most wanted thief in the area, and you don’t even want the job?” Michele almost yelled.

The stories about Sakata no Kintoki were known among thieves across the region; a handsome thief, talented, swift, and successful. He was very young, clearly foreign in heritage, and his true name was known to no one.

Sara blinked. “Why?”

He let out a short, nervous laugh. “Uh, I don’t do backstory. A-anyway, let’s get going. The payoff for the crown gets split three ways, but I’ll be the one to go in and actually retrieve it. Just how we discussed.”

The twins glanced at each other, then looked at him, and nodded.

Removing his glasses and placing them in his satchel, because Sakata no Kintoki  _never_ wore glasses, even if it did make his long distance vision a bit blurry, he ran forward and leapt onto the next roof. Once this prize was his, the priceless crown belonging to the lost prince Victor, he would be free. Once more he’d be Yuuri Katsuki, just an average twenty-year-old, and the idea of it made his heart beat so fast in exhilaration that he thought it may leap into his throat. He willed it to stop. This was the  _last_  time he could let his anxiety get to him. Easy now.

He had this in the bag.

 

* * *

 

Victor was startled to attention by sound of the key in his bedroom door then Lilia entering the tower. He’d spaced out again staring out the window, but he did have the decency to be a little bit embarrassed. “Miss Lilia,” he said, turning around to greet her with a smile. “Good to see you this morning.

Lilia gave him a small, but severe smile. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun and she wore a crisp, tightly laced yellow dress that flared at the waist. “Victor, how are you this morning?”

He brushed his hair out of his face and shrugged. “Same as ever.” He said it in a genial manner, but even Lilia couldn’t miss the edge of melancholy to it. She sighed, her lips thinning into a frown.

“Victor…”

“What?” And he could tell, just by her expression and the tone of her voice, that she had detected something that he had not meant to be clear in his response. He looked over to Makkachin, as if asking for help, but the dog merely stared at him blankly. Some help you are Makkachin.

“What’s going on?”

He came over and sat down at the table next to his kitchen area and she joined him. “My birthday is coming up soon.”

“Yes.” Lilia pulled a basket out from under her arms and placed on the table, pulling out some warm syrniki and offering them to Victor, who took them eagerly. “As with every year, if you give me a list, I’ll try to get you whatever I can from it. I think you’ve worn out your last pair of ballet shoes so I’d already planned on picking you up a new pair of those.”

Victor glanced over at the corner of his room, where his off-white ballet shoes lay wrapped up in their own ribbons. They did look tragically worn. “Thank you Miss Lilia, but I actually had something else in mind as well.”

Lilia turned her head and placed a finger on her cheek. “What might that be?”

He straightened his posture and took a deep breath. “I’m going to be twenty-two years old.”

“Indeed, that's how old I imagine you are,” and Lilia was already on guard, because Victor’s voice was low and intense, and he rarely sounded this serious around her.  

“I want to go outside for my birthday. I want to go and see the lights,” he explained, and a small smile, not one of his normal beaming ones, crossed his lips. “I’ve always wanted to.”

Lilia’s narrow eyes grew wide. “Victor… you can’t.”

“I know it’s dangerous.”

“You have no idea.”

“I do!” he raised his voice. “I still have nightmares, Miss Lilia.” He clenched his eyes shut and let out a breathy shudder. “But… I want to go. Those lights appear every year on my birthday, and I can’t help but feel like… they’re meant for me.”

“They’re not meant for you, Victor,” she snapped. Victor’s eyes grew wide, and he slid the chair back, as if the table were a hot stove he’d just touched. “They’re not meant for anyone like us.”

“Even so…”

“You’ll die.” Lilia covered up her basket and stood up, crossing over to where Victor was and placing a hand on his shoulder. Unthinkingly, she squeezed it, perhaps a bit tighter than she’d meant too. She was scared. “You’d die. You think you were obvious as a child, imagine what it would be like now? Your hair is…” She gestured up to the rafters, where the man’s hair was still hanging over parts of them.

Victor’s eyebrows narrowed and her reached up with one hand, removing Lilia’s hand from his shoulder. He was stronger than her now, he reminded himself. He was strong enough to protect himself if he went outside, right?

“Let’s just do the spell,” Victor mumbled.

Lilia glanced down at her hand, alarmed by the strength Victor had just been displayed. But really, should she have been? Of course he was that strong. “We did it two days ago. We only do it once a week.”

Victor placed his hands in front of him and smiled. “Whoops! Well just in case, you know I can be forgetful.”

She smiled at him. “All right, if it makes you feel better.”

“Great!” And Victor took Lilia’s hand, smile back in full force, although there was an edge of falseness to it, and Lilia wasn’t sure it was genuine. He wasn’t back to normal.

Lilia had no interest in living beyond her normal lifespan, but the fact that she was an older woman was something they could not ignore. Victor had voiced this fear one day in his preteens, and Lilia had suggested that his hair could keep her alive. ' _That way I’ll never be alone?_  ' a young Victor had asked. And so it was decided. And Victor knew then that he could never cut his hair.

“ _Flower, gleam and glow_ ,” he sang, holding her hand as he did so, _"let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. Change what has been lost, bring back what once was mine… what once was mine_.”

The glow of his hair ebbed and he exhaled, releasing his hold on Lilia, who leaned down and gave him the lightest of kisses on the top of his head. “Take care Victor. I’ll be back for lunch. Tell me what you want for your birthday then, and I promise I’ll get it for you.”

Victor gave her a small smile and a one armed hug. “Yes Miss Lilia, I’ll see you then.”

She wasn’t gone more than thirty seconds before he was back at the window.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri skidded down the hill, breathing heavily and ignoring the pain in his ankle as he hit a particularly large root at the bottom of the grassy knoll. He’d been running through the forest for what felt like hours, although he knew it had been far less, the Crispino twins trailing behind him. He was the faster of the two, and his stamina was he knew, something to be envied, so he could keep going for a lot longer, but he was worried about them. The satchel with the prince’s crown smacked against his leg as he rounded a corner. If they hadn’t been in a winding wood they would have long been caught, but the rough, often unpredictable terrain made it easier for the trio of humans to quickly navigate than the horse that chased them.

It didn’t help that they could tell that both horse and rider were a little inexperienced. Good, certainly. Very good, actually. But…

“Sakata no Kintoki,” he screamed again, and Yuuri chanced a quick glance behind him, at the soldier again. He was a spitfire of a boy, years younger than himself, with light blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and green eyes full of contempt. “If you don’t let me arrest your sorry ass, I swear to _fuck_  I will kill you.”

“What about us?” Michele snapped.

“Shut up,” Sara said. “If he’s distracted enough with Kintoki, maybe we can get out of here.” She didn’t want to leave the poor guy out to dry, but if he was as good as his reputation stated, it’s not as if he hadn’t escaped far worse scrapes than this anyway.

“Lieutenant Plisetsky,” Yuuri responded, leaping over a rock in the wood as he did so, “I’ll make you a promise. If you let me go this time, I’ll be out of your hair forever. I promise you’ll never even see me again.”

Plisetsky, as he’d been called, froze for a moment, as if the idea were tempting, but then shook his head. “N-no way. You’re not getting away with the prince’s crown, of all things.”

“Geez, aren’t you like twelve or something? What if we take you back to town and buy you some ice cream, will that clear things up?” Sara cracked, in spite of herself.

Yuuri let out a laugh as the lieutenant cursed loudly, his anger getting the best of him as he hit the large rock that had almost tripped up Yuuri a few moments earlier. It was… a disaster. His horse tripped, his reins tangled up twisting his arms up in them, and he tipped over sideways, his feet losing their grips in the stirrups, his short legs unable to gain purchase once more.

Sara, Michele, and Yuuri all looked at him, looked at each other, and ran.

Once they’d gotten a safe distance away, Yuuri sat them down in a small glade and clasped his hands together, pushing his hair back and biting his lip. “That was Yuri Plisetsky.”

“That little twerp?” Michele snorted.

“He might be a twerp, but he’s tenacious, and he’s wanted to arrest me forever,” he laughed, “well, he’s only fifteen, so not forever, but… for a while, at least. He’ll be after me from now on, as will a lot of soldiers. That crown was quite a treasure.”

“All right, so let’s meet up with the contractors and do the exchange quickly, then it will be taken care of,” Sara said.

“No. I’ll make the exchange with the contractors myself. I have to go back in town in a couple of days to do it, and if you both are seen with Sakata no Kintoki, they’ll arrest you for sure. It won’t just be Yuri Plisetsky, they’ll have a full force out if they think I might be coming, so we should separate right now. It will be easy enough for me to escape if I’m just one person, but all three of us will be much more difficult,” Yuuri explained. He held up his hands. “I have no interest in anything but my share. We can meet up again later, and I’ll give you your part.”

“Why should we expect honesty from a thief?”

Yuuri’s smile was soft as he pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and scribbled something on it, handing it to Michele. “Meet up with me here next week and I won’t be a thief any longer.” He stood up and brushed off his pants, not even waiting for a response, and ran off.

Yuuri was as fast as the rumors said, and there was no way they could even try to catch up with him.

 

* * *

 

Those were definite hoofbeats, Yuuri surmised once he’d finished getting a drink from the stream that he’d found trickling in the wood. It was as clean a water as he was going to find, and he was thirsty from all the running, so it would do. But… the cleanliness of the water was the least of his problems now. He groaned to himself. Maybe it wasn’t Plisetsky. He doubted the young lieutenant would have been able to find him already, but perhaps he’d been lucky? Either way, he picked up his satchel and ran the opposite direction of the sound.

A small cave; he ran through it, seeing sunlight on the other side, and oh, this must have been where the stream generated. It led into an open meadow and ah…

What an odd place to have a tower.

He smiled to himself. Well, it’s not as if a horse could get to him up there.

Which was grand, because the sound of the hoofbeats was getting closer, and he could swear he heard loud cursing. It was Plisetsky, wasn’t it?

Yuuri huffed and gritted his teeth, quickly surveying the wall of stone in front of him and trying to figure out the best way to approach it. Spotting a few wider gaps in the gray stones that made up its construction, he plotted a path in his head and leapt up to the first handhold he needed, trying his best to ignore the approaching sound of what he assumed was Yuri’s horse.

He made quick work of the tower. He was known for his speed, and he had been for years. He was, after all, not a large man, so he’d learned to make up for his lack of size with speed, stamina, and a surprising amount of physical strength for his size. Sakata no Kintoki was an ideal thief; kind and unassuming looking to anyone who met him, and that was good, that was what Yuuri needed. It made his job easier. He shifted his knapsack, took a deep breath, and heaved himself over the windowsill of the tower.

And it was perfect, because upon his great white horse, Yuri Plisetsky was just about to enter the meadow.

Yuuri’s eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. The interior of the tower was large and homey; clearly occupied. The walls were covered in paintings; oil if he was correct, judging by the thick strokes and deep colors, and they depicted scenes all featuring the same person, a long silver haired man. There was a large bed in the room, a huge, warm looking kitchen with copper pots and pans strewn about, and on the side of the room, a wall of mirrors and, he recognized from his own childhood, a barre. A large section of the room had a polished wood floor. A dancer lived here? He glanced upward, and his breath caught. Sunlight streamed into the rafters, and strung upon them, gleaming in silver was… hair? Dozens and dozens of feet of hair, and he was about to speak up, about to say something when…

Smack.

Yuuri found himself knocked quite unceremoniously unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Victor’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps as he held the frying pan over his head, staring down at the unconscious man below him as if he might attack at any moment. His blue eyes were wide and his lips were pressed together. Makkachin stood next to him, stiff and alert.

“There’s a man in the tower Makkachin. There’s… a man in the tower.” Steeling himself, Victor leaned down next to him and placed his hand on his neck, relieved to feel a pulse. “Oh thank god. I didn’t kill him.”

He carefully turned him over, surveying his appearance, and Victor placed a hand over his mouth and made a small squeak of surprise once he’d had a chance to really take it in. The man, for he had no idea of his name, had soft, lovely features, and from the quick look he’d gotten of his face before he’d smacked him with a frying pan Victor thought his eyes were brown, but he couldn’t be sure. His dark hair was pushed out of his face, but Victor found himself, against his better judgment, running his hands through it. It was stiff from some kind of product he’d put in it, which annoyed him, because he thought it must have been very silky on its own. He found his cheeks growing pink as he continued to stare at the man, watching his steady breathing and wondering why his own heartbeat seemed to speed up a bit as he did so.

Victor really thought there was no use denying it, this mysterious man, whoever he was, was  _beautiful_.

“Looking like that, I wonder if he’s a prince Makkachin?” Victor asked. “Do you think he is?” He looked aghast and his eyes grew large. “I just attacked him though... I could get in big trouble.”

He glanced down at his clothing, a blue leather doublet clasped shut over a white shirt with baggy sleeves, and his eyes wandered to the leather knapsack. The leather knapsack had popped open, assumedly due to the impact of hitting the floor, and Victor nearly passed out himself when he saw what was sticking out of it.

A crown. He’d seen those in books plenty of times. He gently took it out of the bag and held it delicately in his hands. It was beautiful; silver with diamonds in the center, pearls that reminded him of the moon, and blue gems like stardust from a falling star. Victor shook his head and slapped his cheeks, as if making sure he was awake. “Makkachin do you realize what this means?” He pulled his dog to his side and glanced to the sleeping man, then back to his dog frantically. “This must be his. He really is a prince! Oh my god. Makkachin… what am I going to do?”

 


	2. For like the first time ever, I'm completely free!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor meet. Yuuri has a headache, but Victor is more charming than he'd expected, so he's becoming increasingly distracted from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback on the first chapter. Hopefully three will come a little quicker. I think now that Yuuri and Victor are interacting, my writing will move at a brisker pace. This chapter is a little shorter than the first (though not by a lot), but it felt like the best place to cut it off.

Yuuri groaned. Or rather he tried to groan, but the sound was stifled by something around his mouth.

 _What the…_  He slid his eyes open, only to see darkness. And oh, his arms were bound too. And his feet.  _By_ \--- he spit a bit of whatever was binding him out, and it was very clear exactly what the material was,  _hair_. He didn’t need to be able to see to assume that it was probably silver hair, and it was that same hair that was binding his legs and his arms. He was standing up right in what felt like perhaps a wardrobe? In the small bit of light that did manage to peek in, the reflection of a mirror was apparent, and the soft fabric of a few pieces of what he imagined were the owner of said hair’s garments.

Was it the man from the paintings? He frowned.

When was the last time Sakata no Kintoki had been captured? Oh, right,  _never_. Yuuri didn’t think too highly of himself, but he knew one thing; he was an expert at not being caught.

And now here he was, knocked unconscious by a frying pan, shoved in a person’s closet, and tied up by their hair. He knew he could work his way out of this one, and it would be simple too, but the humiliation was undeniable. He groaned, or at least attempted to, again.

There was a loud press against the door, and Yuuri realized that there was weight against it. The tower’s occupant must have been leaning on it. Well of course they were, he reasoned, if their hair was holding him in place. Essentially they were attached to him.

“Miss Lilia, I’ve realized what I want outside of ballet shoes,” a voice said, and from the distance of it, it was clearly the owner of the hair. A male voice, and Yuuri thought again of the paintings on the wall. It was a soft, friendly, and earnest sounding voice; warm even, but--- well he  _had_ tied him up and hit him in the head with a frying pan.

“What is it Victor?” another voice asked. This one was that of a woman, a bit curt, but not cold.

The man, Victor, as Yuuri now knew, pressed his body further against the wardrobe. “My pink oil paint is almost out, so I need some buckthorn berries,” he paused, “oh but they have to be unripe, or the pigmenting won’t work.  And make sure to get as many as you can, because I can also use them to make the most beautiful green…”

There was a pause in the conversation before the woman called Lilia sighed. “We’re too far above sea level for buckthorn berries to grow here, so that’s at least a few days’ trip, but… it is for your birthday.”

A loud bang against the door caused Yuuri to startle, as Victor did what he assumed was some kind of physical expression of excitement. “Thank you Miss Lilia.”

“I’d better be heading out then. It’s best to leave with plenty of day left.”

“Yes. Safe travels. And I appreciate the shoes. They’re amazing as always.”

“Goodbye Victor.”

A hug? Maybe. This woman was clearly some kind of guardian figure, so Yuuri assumed that’s what the gesture that put extra weight against the wardrobe was. “Goodbye, Miss Lilia.”

Lilia was barely out of the room when Yuuri pushed his rear against the back of the wardrobe and used the force of it to propel himself forward, kicking the wardrobe doors open with his bound feet and knocking Victor, who had yet to move, rather roughly onto the ground.

Victor let out a loud oomph as he fell, slipping on his own hair and wincing as the man he’d shoved into his wardrobe, landed rather soundly on the floor beside him.

“I didn’t know what else to do!” Victor explained. “I couldn’t let Miss Lilia see you, and I couldn’t have you waking up and letting her know you were here, so I just put you in there and tied you up and…”

Yuuri nodded. Victor blinked. He nodded again, very forcefully, and Victor finally got the point.

“Oh! Oh…”

He reached forward and pulled his hair away from Yuuri’s mouth, releasing the gag that had kept him silent. “What is going on?!!” was all Yuuri managed.

Yuuri took a moment to observe the appearance of his captor. He looked to be about his own age, taller than himself, and undeniably, really, really handsome. In addition to his hair, which was, at Yuuri’s estimate, although he couldn’t see it at all, at least sixty feet long (it fell into his face, and it wasn’t just silver white; it almost looked like it  _glowed_ ), his other features were striking as well. His eyes were an ocean blue, his complexion pale, and his face was very  _pretty_.

He wore a pale pink doublet, laced up with purple cord, and his undershirt was lavender, the loose, almost sheer sleeves ending between his wrists and elbows and tied off with flower decorated ribbon. His breeches were a rosy brown, and on his feet were a pair of cream colored ballet shoes, perhaps the ones that ‘Miss Lilia’ had just given him.

“I apologize, your highness, if I’ve committed any transgression but…”

“Your highness?” Yuuri nearly screamed, and Victor was so thankful that Lilia would be out of the tower by now.

Victor blinked, and his eyes were wide. He reached over to Yuuri’s knapsack, which he’d shoved under the wardrobe, and pulled out the crown. “Aren’t you a prince?”

Yuuri let out a nervous laugh, and he would have slapped his forehead, but he was still bound up in Victor’s hair.

“Are you serious? M-me, a prince? No!”

Victor lowered the hand holding the crown to the ground, and his expression changed to one of pure bewilderment.

But then, much to Yuuri’s confusion, his lips widened into a smile, a wide heart-shaped smile that made Yuuri’s chest tighten perhaps more than it should have, especially considering this man had just hit him with a frying pan and tied him up minutes previously.

“Wow! Amazing. If that’s the case, does that mean that everyone outside the tower is as beautiful as you?” Victor had shifted his position now, and he was leaning forward now, closer to Yuuri, although not too close. There was this strange cautiousness Yuuri sensed from him, as if he were just plain unfamiliar with other people and,  _Oh… I guess he is._

“What? I’m not---“ Yuuri spluttered, and his face turned red, all the way up to his ears. “Victor! That’s your name right?” He nodded. “Have you ever  _seen_  another person?”

Victor nodded. “I see Miss Lilia every day.” He tapped his chin. Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted. “Now why were you in my tower?”

“I was being chased. I saw your tower and escaped into it,” he explained. “And that’s just one person.”

“Well there’s also my dog, Makkachin.” Yuuri observed as said dog came padding over, hearing his named called. Makkachin was a cute, fluffy brown poodle that reminded Yuuri of a dog that he’d once had. He felt a smile cross his features, unbidden.

“Really cute,” he let out a short laugh, “but not a person. Why did you attack me?”

Victor frowned. “You came into my house! I thought you were a thief.”

Yuuri almost couldn’t handle the irony of that, so he just bit his lip and hid any reaction inside. “Oh well, I promise I wasn’t trying to steal anything from you.”

It was honest, at least. 

Victor noticed, and Yuuri did as well, that they’d settled into a pattern of switching off asking questions, so he proposed the next one.

“What’s your name?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, and god was he  _cute_. Judging by Yuuri’s reaction, he didn’t seem to agree, but Victor couldn’t imagine that, even with his lack of knowledge of the outside world, there were many people lovelier looking than this man.

“S-Sakata no Kintoki.”

 Victor smiled again, that same, heart shaped smile that Yuuri found really, rather delightful. He couldn’t help if the man were attractive, could he? “Wow!  _Kintaro_. I love that story. I’ve read it so many times.” His expression changed to a more thoughtful one. “But… that can’t be your name, can it? That’s a nickname, right?”

Yuuri froze. “Y-you know that story?”

Victor nodded vigorously.

“But no one around here does. I thought it was safe too… it’s popular in my family's homeland but…” Yuuri was rambling now and he knew it, but he was anxious. Sakata no Kintoki had been a safe choice for him. He’d grown up with stories of the folk hero Kintaro, as everyone in his parents’ homeland had, but--- here, on his continent, he was a hero that Yuuri had, that he could keep to himself and no one else would know about. A name he could use to protect himself and his identity. ‘That’s a nickname, right?’ Of course it was. Victor, the same man who apparently thought his dog counted as a human and that Yuuri was beautiful, had seen right through that?

Victor leaned forward further now, and for a moment, Yuuri thought he was going to undo his bindings, because oh, he was touching his arm. “I read a lot. Miss Lilia brings me books from all over the world, and…” he smiled, a little rueful, if Yuuri was reading it correctly, “stories of magic are my favorite. Are you really from Japan?”

“My parents are…”

“What’s your real name?”

Victor’s expression was honest, and he sensed no ill will from the man. He… had just been protecting himself, hadn’t he? Yuuri’s headache argued that hardly mattered, but, well, it was fading, wasn’t it?

“Unbind me, and I’ll tell you.”

Victor stood up, and there was a moment where, Yuuri thought, he saw real fear in his eyes. “I—I-I—“ he stuttered, and he gulped. It’s not like he had a choice. He’d decided, in the rush of it, to foolishly bind this man by his own hair. He’d have to free him eventually.

The young man had proven to be—not in the least bit frightening, but in this moment, faced with the fact that he was going to be defenseless against him again (save for the frying pan again, which he’d nabbed from beside the wardrobe and held in hand just in case), Victor felt his heart beat speed up rapidly. This time it  _wasn’t_  due to how lovely the other man was to look at.  

He wasn’t scared of him.

And it was true, he really wasn’t. He was, Victor knew, just—unable to shake the memories, the glimpses of his past, foggy, blurred, the only real, clear thing about them being the emotions associated with them, that came to mind when he thought of being alone with someone who wasn’t Lilia.

“Victor are you okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned, and Victor thought, that would be hard to fake, wouldn’t it?

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He let out a shaky breath, and his voice, Yuuri noticed, was much lower. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks.” And Yuuri smiled. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you, but to be fair, I think you got more than your fair share of payback for that.”

Victor laughed, and it felt good. “I’m sorry about that.”

Yuuri’s eyes honed in on the frying pan. “Please don’t use that again.”

“I won’t, unless you try to attack me.”

“I just want to be out of this hair. Why is it so long anyway?”

“Because I’ve never cut it,” Victor answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He felt relaxed now. He reached down and loosened the ties around Yuuri’s feet, then his arms, and he didn’t even feel like he needed to let out an exhale of relief when all Yuuri did was stand up and brush himself off.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Victor responded.

“I’m sorry for freaking you out. Can I have my bag?”

Wordlessly, Victor handed him his bag. Yuuri reached inside and pulled out, from a leather case, a pair of blue framed glasses and slipped them onto his face.

“I haven’t told anyone my name in a long time,” he explained. “It’s… there’s a lot of reasons why, but please, when I tell you this, you can call me it, but make sure not to mention anything about Sakata no Kintoki okay?”

Victor creased his brows in bewilderment and tapped his chin for a moment, mulling over why exactly he’d say something like this. Did it have something to do with the reason he was being chased?

“Okay, I can do that. So just your real name then? Make sure not to ever mention your nickname,” Victor clarified.

He nodded.

“Great! I love the glasses by the way. They’re so charming!”

Yuuri’s cheeks reddened again.  _What is with this man? Does he just say whatever comes to mind?_

He held out his hand, and Victor looked confused for a moment, before he took it. “Sorry I forgot for a second! I’ve read about this before, yes.”

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he said, shaking his hand, “my name is Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Yuuri!” Victor repeated, drawing out the u in a way that the other man found far more pleasant than he’d like to admit. “I like that much better anyway.”

Yuuri felt himself smile, because he liked the way his name sounded on this man’s lips. He hadn’t heard his name said by someone else in such a long while, and he felt warmth pool in his chest at the sound of it. He missed it. He missed being Yuuri so much.

“T-thanks,” he replied, and even he couldn’t miss the way his voice shook at that. He pulled his hand away, and found himself surveying Victor again, or rather… surveying his hair. “Sorry your hair is just so---“

“Yuuri take me outside!” Victor blurted out, and he’d put down the frying pan and stepped closer to him, a sparkle in his bright blue eyes.

“Uh, what?”

“You’re right,” Victor began, “I don’t know any other people. Just Miss Lilia, and Makkachin, and you… now.” He bit his lip and glanced down at his dog, giving him a stroke. Makkachin licked his fingers. “I want to go outside the tower.”

Yuuri found himself, in spite of his own better judgment, taking a step closer to Victor. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his brown eyes flashed sympathy. “You can’t leave this tower on your own?”

Victor blew a piece of long hair out of his face and let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “I can’t leave the tower period. Miss Lilia won’t let me.”

His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment and he glanced around the tower again, surveying the paintings once more, the pots, the pans, the barre. It was a beautiful place, but it was almost  _too_  lived in. Even the floor was decorated with art, and Yuuri noticed, it was much simpler than the art on the wall, as if Victor painted it when he was far younger. How long had this man been here? “Why?” Yuuri felt his voice break, just a little.

“It’s… hard to explain,” Victor said, for as much as he liked this Yuuri Katsuki, his hair, his magic hair, was still his secret. “But I want to go. Will you help me?”

“Is there somewhere specific you want go?”

Victor nodded vigorously, gesturing over to a painting on the far wall, above his bed. It was, Yuuri saw, of Victor himself sitting on a hill watching a full moon. Rising up toward the moon were thousands of lights, and Yuuri knew immediately what they were. It was that time of year after all.

“You just want to go to the kingdom to see the lanterns?” he asked.

“ _Just_?” Victor looked aghast. “It’s been my dream for most of my life. They appear every year on my birthday, and Yuuri…” he smiled as he looked at the painting, but it wasn’t one of his wide smiles; it was small, thoughtful, and pensive, “I’ve always thought they were meant for me.”

Yuuri chuckled. “Well not unless you’re the lost prince of Corona,” he mumbled. “Although…”

There wasn’t much in the way of physical descriptions of the lost prince, but he was said to have light hair and light eyes, and his name was---

No, that was impossible. Victor was a common name. Yuuri shook it off. The prince was long gone. It had been almost twenty-three years since he’d vanished.

“Although?”

Yuuri shook his head. “It’s nothing.” He bit his lip and toyed with his hands, picking at his fingernails, just a bit. “So uh, if I take you to the kingdom, what will ‘Miss Lilia’ do?”

“She’s my mom, or well… she raised me,” Victor explained, “and she wouldn’t hurt you unless you tried to hurt me.”

Yuuri raised his eyes to meet Victor’s, and he felt his breath catch. They were brown, he’d noted, and a lovely almost red brown at that. They seemed to sparkle when he was in thought, or perhaps Victor was imagining that. Maybe it was just the glare of his glasses. “I wasn’t worried about myself, Victor.”

Oh no, it really  _was_  his eyes, wasn’t it? Victor filed that away.

“Yuuri…”

He gulped.

“Miss Lilia would never hurt me; I swear to it.”

Yuuri nodded. “All right. I need to go into the city anyway, but don’t forget what I told you about my name. You can’t forget that.”

Victor nodded, bright and buoyant, and Yuuri found himself, before he could even think to say anything, captured in the taller man’s embrace. He held his arms out stiff to his side, his heart beating in his ears. “Yuuri, thank you so much!” And at this point, Victor nuzzled his shoulder and Yuuri thought that his blush, which he knew was there, must have been brighter than it had ever been.  

“V-Victor!” Hesitantly, he patted him on the back and squeezed out of the hug. “Get yourself ready, okay?” he commanded, for lack of a better thing to say.

Yuuri for his part, had to make himself unrecognizable. It wasn’t hard. He’d done it before, any time he needed to go into a city or a town and not be caught. His normal self, Yuuri Katsuki, lacked the confident aesthetic, of Sakata no Kintoki, and he blended into the background well. Victor sure as hell wouldn’t, with that hair, but Yuuri at least, could.

_I’ll take him to the kingdom and then later on, do the exchange for the crown. It’s not like I didn’t need to go into Corona anyway…_

Victor was excitedly bouncing around the tower, babbling to Makkachin about who knows what and seemingly deciding whether to bring his frying pan or not. Yuuri let him be and looked into the mirror on the back of the wardrobe.

He reached into his knapsack and grabbed a drinking skin, which he’d filled with water at the nearby spring, then squirted a little into his hand and wet his hair slightly. The hair product came out, and he combed his messy bangs down, doing the same to the sides of his hair until he looked much more Yuuri and less Sakata no Kintoki. He’d been told, with his hair back and his glasses off, that he almost looked like a different person. He used this to his advantage.

One more thing, just in case, that he always did. He unlaced his doublet and turned it inside out. The other side of it was a deep green. It wasn’t a big change, but, he thought, every little bit helped.

He laced it back up and turned to Victor. “Are you ready now?”

Victor turned around, and his smile grew large. “Yes! And thank you. I bet your hair is so much softer now.”

Yuuri blinked, blinked again, and then just shook his head in befuddlement. He reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, which was indeed, softer now, but… had Victor touched it before? When he was unconscious? His cheeks pinked at the thought.

 “You are so strange.”

Strange was an understatement, for Victor--- whatever his last name was. He realized he had no idea. He’d ask him later.

“Makkachin is coming too,” Victor said, and his tone left no room for argument. “I can’t exactly leave him since Miss Lilia is going to be gone a couple of days.”

Yuuri glanced to the poodle, who stood stalwartly by Victor’s side, and shrugged. “Sure thing. Now can we just go out the door or?”

“No, we’ll have to go down through the window.”

Yuuri slid the knapsack further onto his shoulder and frowned. He noticed that Victor had decided to grab the frying pan after all. “How do you propose climbing down with a giant dog in your arms?”

Victor grinned and held up, in his arms, an enormous bundle of his silver hair.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Yuuri groaned.

But the hair worked more than adequately. The stuff was strong, as he was aware of due to the fact that he’d been tied up in it. It was just--- the strangeness of the situation that had Yuuri a little shaken.

He was on the ground now below the tower, soft meadow grass beneath his feet and Makkachin by his side. He’d volunteered to take Victor’s dog down with him since he had a lot more experience doing—well, anything to be honest, and Victor had agreed. Luckily for him, Makkachin had taken to Yuuri instantly and covered his face in the most slobbery of kisses.

“Victor, are you coming down now?”

He could see Victor at the top of the tower, one leg over the edge. Yuuri noticed he still had the ballet shoes on, and he wondered if the man even had other shoes. He lived in a  _tower_ after all. Would he even need them?  

“Y-yeah I’m coming!” Victor exclaimed, but even from the grass below, Yuuri could hear the shake in his voice.

“It’s okay. It’s not too scary, I promise,” Yuuri reassured. “You’ll be on the ground in just a few seconds. It’s an easy jump to make.”

“I know!”

Ah, it wasn’t the leap itself that Victor was worried about, was it?

Yuuri took a deep breath and exhaled, trying not to allow Victor’s own anxiety over the situation rub off on himself. “Look Victor. I don’t know why you’ve been kept inside all this time, but--- I promise it’s not so bad out here. I’ll take you to see the lanterns, and if you don’t like it, I’ll bring you right back, okay?”

He let out a short, nervous laugh. “Thank you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

“You’re welcome. Now Makkachin is waiting for you down here, isn’t he?”

Victor nodded and tightened the frying pan in his hand, closing his eyes and breathing in and out several times.  _Miss Lilia, I’m sorry, but I need to do this. I know you think I’m going to be hurt, and maybe I will be but…_

“Catch me if I fall, Yuuri,” Victor yelled, and he leapt down, grabbing his hair and using it as a rope as it swung over the small outcropping they’d hung it around.

Yuuri, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open rather like a fish, spread his arms, as if expecting Victor to land in them.

He didn’t, instead delicately touching down to the grass next to him. Yuuri heaved a sigh of relief.

And Victor fell to his knees, his silver hair falling around him like a glowing halo that encircled his entire body. In the sunlight, beaming into the meadow and surrounded by the green of the grass and trees and the blue of the sky, Victor wasn’t just pretty or attractive.

Victor was gorgeous.

Then Yuuri watched Victor as he stood up, watched him as he ran through the meadow, rolled in the grass and smelled the flowers, because this was all new to him, and it was all so very exciting.

“Yuuri this is amazing!” he laughed, joyous and vivacious, and he was brighter than sunshine, and Yuuri wanted so much to be pulled into his light. He was holding a small bundle of dandelions, and he knew Victor was well read, so perhaps he already knew they were weeds and not flowers and didn’t care, just because he was touching the soil and pulling them from the ground himself.

“Dandelions, Victor?”

“Mhmm!” Victor responded as Yuuri approached him, and he knew he was smiling as well.

“On the way to Corona, I can show you so many prettier flowers.”

Victor’s grin grew even wider. “Great!” He closed the distance between himself and Yuuri and ever so gently, brushed his fingers across Yuuri’s cheek as he placed one of the dandelions behind his ear, bright yellow contrasting vividly with the black of his hair. “Perfect. That’s perfect.”

His smile was in the shape of a heart again, and Yuuri’s own heart was lodged in his throat, to the point that all he could do was nod and hope that the flush on his cheeks wasn’t  _too_  ridiculous.

The headache from Victor’s frying pan was entirely gone now, or at the very least, if it wasn’t, he was far too distracted with other things to notice it now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and comments are much appreciated. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. These boys fall FAST, don't they? Honestly I've rarely written a pairing that's just so... pleasant like they are.

**Author's Note:**

> The thing about YOI is that it's quite difficult to make anyone in the cast truly an antagonist, so I've restructured some aspects of the story to try and make this work while still trying to keep it very much Tangled. You might have questions after reading this chapter, but hopefully they'll all be answered as the story continues. Thank you for reading!


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